


Hazy Days

by ImogenSmiley



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: 52 Week Oneshot Challenge, Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Illness, Comfort, Established Relationship, Flu, Help/Comfort, M/M, Nurse Lio, Oneshot, Poorly Galo, Post-Canon, Sickfic, Support, fatigue, ill health, sleepy, tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogenSmiley/pseuds/ImogenSmiley
Summary: After the Second Great World Burning, and the departure of the promare from Earth, Lio Fotia developed chronic fatigue
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Hazy Days

**Author's Note:**

> It's Wednesday again? Looks like it! I swear, being in lockdown makes the days blur together. However, it does offer me more than enough writing time! I hope you like my newest piece!

Lio hadn’t considered that the Second Great World Burning would have caused everything to come crumbling down. He’d found himself hospitalised, and attempting to ward off illness like a plague doctor. Although a slim minority of doctors were attempting to research the former Burnish population and potential susceptibility to illness, until there was progress, there was little that could be done.

Lio had figured that he was so cold and poorly due to the state of his immune system. He wasn’t born Burnish, but he was very young when he found himself running in fear of his life. Since then he’d had no booster injections, and spent most of his time living on the run. But the heat of his body killed off basically any bacteria that attempted to cause an illness.

Perhaps his immune system was weaker due to all of that. He was always really sleepy too. Despite working in such an active environment, “paying his debt to society” as part of Burning Rescue with Galo and Aina, he had a bad habit of feeling heavy limbs weigh him down. They teased him for it, sure, but reckoned their jokes about Lio being narcoleptic couldn’t be that far off the truth, he seemed to constantly be existing in the tense purgatory between caffeine overdose from Redbull and black coffee, or perpetual near-comatose naps.

According to Google, this was called chronic fatigue. And, regardless of whether that was his actual issue, or not, it wasn’t helped by constantly having to carry the weight of ill-health. From stuffed up noses, to constant chills to an overwhelming migraine, Lio seemed to be poorly more than he was awake.

Galo, didn’t mind though. In the year since the Second Great World Burning, he had become very close with his new teammate and colleague. Very close. The two young men found themselves unable to keep a level head around one another, and when a heated row transitioned into a love confession in the most ridiculous manner. Since then, he had been hard pressed to find one without the other, attached to his hip. They were like magnets being spun on an axis, drawn toward one another and moving as two independent parties, moving together to connect.

Which was probably how, when Lio got poorly, Galo tended to share symptoms. Although, the hot-headed blue-haired man was less likely to be bedbound by the illnesses he’d contract, from the common cold, to tonsillitis, he always got sick right after Lio did. Never as severely, but it was prevalent enough. Perhaps that was his punishment for being Lio’s nurse, playing doctor, feeding him tin after tin of chicken soup, and padding his duvets with extra blankets for warmth.

Sometimes, however, Galo would fall ill too. Drastically. It was a rare sight but it did happen. This was one of those days, the couple were lying heavy beneath the blankets, Galo with a wet towel on his head, and Lio clinging to a hot water bottle. Beneath the quilts, Galo was sweating, chest bare, exposing the bountiful scars from his time in Burning Rescue, along with his top surgery scars. He whimpered, his hair greasy and knotted. He hadn’t moved in almost two days, not even for food, he’d had his dinner delivered to the door, and used a Roomba to pass the money to the diver, and take the food to bed. Technology was a blessed thing when sick.

What was even more surprising was that out of the two, the sickness that had stricken the couple seemed to have had a firmer grip on Galo when compared to Lio. After two days in their shared bed, the green haired man eased his way out of the quilts and peeled back sweat-clad clothes, jumping into the shower, rinsing his body, scalding his skin and covering the reddening skin with a layer of soap.

For a change, it was him who had to make the soup, and feed his boyfriend, pouring whisky with honey and lemon into his chapped lips via pipette. It was Lio, who despite his aching body wanting to cease activity, found himself dabbing the beads of sweat from Galo’s brow with a cloth. He’d sighed to himself, stifling yawns, doing his best to avoid peppering the blue haired man’s face with kisses. He was pretty sure that being in such close proximity to him would make him poorly again, but he was adamant to keep him well.

He’d crossed his fingers behind his back as he changed the bed sheets, leaving Galo to hide beneath a bed of dressing gowns and fleece blankets.

Perhaps in a few days, Galo would be well too. The flu was an exhausting sickness.

Lio was sleeping on the sofa, to avoid being coughed on, or sneezed on. He couldn’t be poorly again. As he shuffled on the crackly leather sofa, he hoped that in the morning his boyfriend would be well again.

He finally closed heavy lids and fell down into the embrace of fatigue. He would get some rest, finally.


End file.
